156 WiDMANN, yl Visit to Audubon s Birthplace. [ A"ril 



of the long-leafed pine i^Pinus australis) with an undergrowth of 

 palmetto, young pines and blackberry bushes. These pines are 

 hung with moss, but much less so than the trees on damper 

 ground. Our Pine Warbler has been singing all the while its 

 simple ditty at the rate of once every ten seconds. It is one of 

 those vexatious songs, which tax our patience not a little. Some- 

 times you think it comes from nearby on the ground, when really 

 the bird is way off in a tree-top. He is the only songster in these 

 woods at present, and with him census-taking is an easy task, 

 resulting in the sweeping annotation : A common and industrious 

 songster in the pine woods. Besides his song he has various calls, 

 one of which recalls the twittering of Swifts. 



Often when we are trying to discover the indefatigable musician, 

 or when we follow his flycatching antics in the outer branches, we 

 notice scales of bark dropping from on high beside a tree. This 

 is the work of the Red-cockaded Woodpecker {Djyobates borealis) ; 

 the pineries are his home and, theugh he makes but little noise 

 and hugs seclusion on the off-side of the trunk, the flying chips of 

 bark betray his Whereabouts. But to-day the Red-cockaded are 

 not silent ; they chirp and chase and quarrel and frolic and, when 

 they light against a tree, they make the bark fly with a vim, as if 

 putting all their mirth and passion in that bill, emitting all the 

 time a note which reminds one strongly of a Robin's. 



The Pine Warbler, the Red-cockaded Woodpecker and the 

 Brown-headed Nuthatch form a triumvirate group, truly character- 

 istic of these piny woods. When you see one, you will soon hear 

 or see the other. The first of March is mating time with all of 

 them, the most favorable days for observation. At other times an 

 inconspicuous little midge, the Nuthatch draws to-day as much 

 attention as the other members of the coalition. What he lacks 

 in size, he makes up in restlessness and noise. With squeaking 

 notes they chase each other through the woods, or measure trees 

 by nervous hops out to the farthest end ; a violent emotion sways 

 their diminutive bodies and allows them to rest only long enough 

 to emit a little song, a few really musical notes, the last of which 

 recalls one of the Goldfinch's. Thus they follow each other from 

 branch to branch, from tree to tree, until at last the impetuous 

 knight carries his prize, and peace ensues once more in these 



